


His Side of the Story

by BeMyDarkling



Category: Cinderella (Fairy Tale)
Genre: F/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fixed it, rewritten fairytale, slightly less patriarchal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeMyDarkling/pseuds/BeMyDarkling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Charming tells the story of Cinderella from his perspective. </p><p>I fixed it to make it a bit more of a love story and less of a 'women are only good for their looks' and 'I love you but I cant remember your face' type of story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Side of the Story

It was the year of my twenty-first birthday and I had been pondering the accident of birth: why some men are born to wealth and some to poverty. In my childhood, I never once went a day without food, but I also never played in the streets with the other children. I’ve never had to walk a dozen miles on market morning, but I’ve also never wandered the fields in the sunrise. It’s the benefits and drawbacks of being royalty.

Another rather evident drawback that year was my parent’s insistence that I take a wife. Not a new story, I know. At 18 it started with subtle hints but now it devolved into downright nagging (or lectures on my father’s part). They had tried their best over the years to pair me with some dignitary’s daughter or another. At least the accident of being born a man means they can’t outright sell me off. That was the feeling behind it, that I was something to be obtained or used. All the women of the village admired me from afar without having the slightest idea what I was like. It didn’t matter. I was a prince, and charming one at that. They actually called me ‘prince charming’ and I began to be more and more certain that none of them actually knew my name.

But now I was turning 21, the absolute limit for my parent’s patience. Their last ditch effort was to throw me a giant ball and invite literally _ every woman in the kingdom _ . Their desperation was embarrassing, but I decided to put a brave face on it. 

So, the night of the ball, they dressed me up like some kind of gilded monkey and stood me at the entrance to greet all the ladies. I gave my most sincere smile, chatted with the guests and even made some awkward attempts at flirting. Honestly I gave it my best. 

Around 9:00 I was discretely handed a list of specific ladies I ought to dance with. I sighed and went to obey.

Then someone came in late. She had no chaperone or companion, just her lone figure in a blue dress she didn’t look too comfortable in. She slipped into the crowd and I lost sight of her in the sea of ruffles and lace. She didn’t look any different. Her dress, her hair, she didn’t stand out like some kind of shining angel. But I couldn’t forget that glimpse I caught of her, that look in her eyes when she walked into the room. 

She wasn’t looking at the crowd, to see which people she needed to impress (I wasn’t the only eligible bachelor there). She was looking up. She looked at all the blazing chandeliers and painted ceilings and looked over the whole scene with awe before she remembered herself and slid out of everyone’s view. It made me think, as I danced with a Duke’s daughter (who obviously did not like me); If a woman did not come to trap herself a husband or to make social connections, why would anyone show up to a place like this? I kept an eye out for the girl in the blue dress as we swirled around the dance floor.

As the song ended, I excused myself and made my way to the banquet table. She was there, eating a cream puff without a plate or napkin or anything. As I poured myself a glass of wine, she finished it and grabbed another. “These things are amazing.” she said, catching sight of me. “Seriously, have you tried them?” 

I laughed. “You talk as if you’ve never eaten a cream puff before” I said. 

“I haven’t.” she said, distracted, as she scanned the rest of the table. 

“No? They were always my favorite, but come to think of it, I hadn't had one in years." 

She insisted I have one and waited expectantly.  I don't remember ever eating a cream puff that tasted as good as that one and I told her so. I handed her a chocolate eclair and as she bit into it, her eyes widened. I laughed. I hadn't seen anyone genuinely enjoy something so simple. I awkwardly asked her to dance and she shrugged and said “Why not?”. 

I must admit, I wasn't used to getting such a flippant reaction. There were other girls staring at her in envy as we danced but she waltzed clumsily and enthusiastically, like a child playing a game that will soon be over. At one point she closed her eyes and smiled, soaking in the music. It sounded fresh to my ears as I saw her enjoy it. That moment when she started humming along, totally forgetting everything around her, I knew I was undone. I felt a pull to this girl like nothing else. We danced for an hour and I did everything I could to make her laugh. She threw back her head when she laughed and gave herself over to whatever she was feeling. I had never felt so strong a connection with anyone. We snuck off to the kitchens and stole a few more pastries while she told me stories about her childhood. I guessed by then she wasn't a member of the aristocracy. She wanted to explore that castle so we dashed down hallways while I hoped nobody would notice I wasn't at my own party. We came to the top of a large stairwell. She gave me a mischievous grin, hopped on the bannister, gown and all, and slid down with a light hearted shout. 

 

I knew right then and there I needed to marry this girl. 

 

I followed close behind her. We were close to the clock tower and as it struck the hour, the chimes vibrated through the empty foyer. She whirled around. 

“What time is it?” She demanded. 

“Midnight I think.” I answered. 

She uttered a word I had only heard come from the mouth of stable boys and started to run towards the door. 

“Wait!” I called after her. My words echoed in the empty hall and she looked back as she reached the doorway. “Can I see you again?” My heart was in my throat. For a moment I regretted asking so openly. Maybe I was wrong, maybe I had been deluding myself in thinking she might feel the same way I did. Her smile told me otherwise. She strode towards me, kissed me fully, deeply, intoxicatingly, and ran off with a grin. 

For a moment I was rooted to the spot. When I made it to the doorway, she was already halfway down the drive. She stumbled for a moment, and I saw something glittering on the ground. She was long gone before I reached it. It was a shoe made out of glass. I picked it up incredulously. She had been wearing glass shoes all night and never showed any concern that they might shatter and cut up her feet. I laughed to myself. We had danced for an hour! 

By then, everyone was wondering where I had gone. I sent the shoe to my room for safekeeping and returned to the party. 

All night, she was all I could think of. I did my duty and entertained my guests, but my mind was on her. When everyone had finally gone, I sat awake in my room, holding that glass shoe and remembering her quick smile and genuine delight in everything around her. I _needed_ to see her again. A day later, I admitted my interest to my father. He gladly granted me permission to try and find her. I figured she must be from the local village, so I set out with a few servants. I asked them to inquire  _ discreetly _ about a woman of her description. I mentioned the shoe but didn't think much of it. I went off on my own, wandering around the village. 

I had never been able to do that before. I wasn't wearing royal garb and I passed through the streets unnoticed. It was remarkably freeing. For the first time. I was able to get a real, intimate look at the subjects I was to rule one day. I resolved to come out to the village more often. 

When I returned to the servants I found, _ to my absolute horror _ , they had announced that the prince was looking for his true love. To make it worse, they had taken the glass shoe and were trying it on every woman they could find. 

 

I was  _ mortified _ . 

 

I shut them down as quickly as I could but the rumors had already spread. I had never been so embarrassed in my life. I was halfway back to the castle when I heard someone singing. It stopped me in my tracks. 

I knew that voice. 

She was sweeping the courtyard of a large house. She was dressed very simply but she carried herself as if she was still wearing that ball gown. I grew suddenly shy. I was afraid to go in with the whole village watching so I sent a servant to ask if she would be interested in dining at the palace that night. He was taking a long time so I peeked inside. The foolish man was trying to shove the pretty little glass shoe on some odd young woman's foot. I rushed in and yanked him up, trying to explain the misunderstanding to the severe looking older woman in the room and the shoe fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. 

“Damn.” A sweet voice said from the doorway. “I'm glad that didn't happen while we were dancing.” She smiled at me and my heart started pounding. She was gracious enough to ignore my nervous stammering, took my hand and dragged me to the back of the house. 

“Come,” she said, “I want you to meet someone.” She introduced me to her dog with all the solemnity she would offer an earl. We sat, talking and petting the dog and I slowly realized her situation. I looked into the run down kitchen and saw her bed by the fireplace. By the body language of the bitter looking woman and her two daughters, I could tell they didn't have much affection for her. I heard one of them refer to her by some sort of nickname that implied she was dirty. 

 

She came back with me right then and there (she insisted the dog come too). My parents fell in love with her immediately. I told them about her situation and they extended an invitation for her to stay a while. I wanted to add that there were no strings or anything and she could leave whenever she felt like it, but it came out all awkward. She stayed and turned the whole castle upside down with her energetic presence. 

The first morning, she got in a shouting match with a governess assigned to her because she refused to wear one of the restrictive corsets all the women at court wore. 

She learned everyone's names, including the servants. At one point I found her up to her elbows in flour down in the kitchen, chatting with the cook. Other times I found her in the library, having quick witted political debates with my father's advisors. She could keep up with the highest members of the court but still had time to play hopscotch with the children in the stable yard. My mother wanted me to propose within the week. It ended up being a month. 

 

Now, a year later, she is six months pregnant with our first child. She still beats me at squash and I can't seem to stop her from sliding down the banisters when nobody is looking. She's going to be an amazing mother. She's already an amazing everything.

  
I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know for sure and for certain, I will always be in love with that crazy girl who lit up my life when she crashed a party in shoes made out of glass. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been fascinated with the fact that the basic storyline of Cinderella appears independently in cultures all around the world.  
> The whole 'prince falls in love instantly because she's pretty but can't remember what she looks like if she's not wearing fancy clothes' thing put me off though. 
> 
> So I fixed it.


End file.
